Chapter 3
Emma was taken aback when she walked into the restaurant Cole had texted her the address to. It was an upscale steakhouse, and her jeans, sleeveless shirt and scarf suddenly felt too casual. She chanced a look at her watch to see if she could hurry home and change without being too late. But it was 8:00, their meeting time, and it would take her at least half an hour. She sighed, grateful she had at least opted for heels over flip-flops.
She was led to the back of the restaurant, where Cole was already waiting at a small table for two, and Emma breathlessly took in the sight of him. He wore a black suit, with the jacket slung over the back of his chair and his tie loosened. A candle on the table flickered its soft light onto the handsome face she had fantasized about as a teen. She had ached for Cole Marlowe to notice her.
His chest was broader and his shoulders wider than they were then. He was an older, hotter version of the teenage Cole she had adored, which made her exhale deeply with anticipation.
He looked up and noticed her, and his smile spread all the way to his eyes.
“Em,” he said warmly, jumping up from his chair to pull hers out. She was about to sit down when he gave her a quick, soft kiss on the cheek. She’d always thought “weak in the knees” was just an adage until his lips touched her skin.
Keep it together, girl. You are a strong, confident woman who doesn’t melt into a puddle over any man.
“I’m underdressed,” she announced, looking down at her jeans self-consciously. Cole shook his head and waved off her concern.
“You look great. I’d be wearing jeans but I didn’t get out of the office in time to go home and change.”
She wanted to keep standing next to him, where she could pick up just a hint of his cologne, but she realized that would get awkward, so she took the seat across from his at the table, and he followed.
“What kind of work do you do at your firm?” she asked, trying to focus on something – anything – besides his lips.
“Boring business stuff. I’m working with one of the partners on a big case now. It’s mostly just research with the occasional court appearance. What do you do at Wright?”
“I create graphics for brochures, make logos … nothing too exciting, but I like it. It’s another side of art.”
“How has the rest of your week been?” he asked, sipping from the bottle of beer the waitress had delivered. Emma imagined tasting it on his mouth and had to look away so she could concentrate on the conversation.
“Um, pretty routine. Drinks with Layla the other night, working on a logo for work and painting.”
The server approached, and as Emma breathed in the scent of a sizzling steak passing by on a tray, she realized she was famished.
“I’m starved,” Cole said, as though reading her mind. “I worked through lunch today. You want an appetizer?”
“Sure, sounds good.”
There was a glint of admiration in Cole’s eyes as they ordered, and Emma looked at him expectantly.
“I like that you ordered steak and potatoes,” he said. “I hate it when women order salads.”
“I’m not really a salad girl, that’s my sister,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Cole watched her intently, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he trying to figure out how to bring up Layla? She’d just given him a perfect opportunity.
Could he be thinking about me? No, that’s just wishful thinking. He’s an attorney, I doubt he’s into artists. His eyes are so much bluer than I remember. God, he’s sexy …
“Do you see your parents much?” she asked, clearing her throat – and her mind – as she reached for a piece of bread.
“Since I moved back a few months ago, I see them a lot more. They invited me to dinner at your parents’ house a few weeks ago, but I had some friends from college in town that weekend, so I missed it. It was nice to see them last weekend.”
“I remember you guys coming for dinners after you moved in,” she said, smiling. “I was always a nervous wreck the entire time.”
“Why?”
Emma glared at him for a second, as if it was obvious, but he continued to look dumbfounded.
“You know, I always envied the way Layla would flirt with you at those dinners. I was the picture of awkward adolescence, and she just… glowed. All the time. She hopes you’ll come back over for dinner soon, you know.”
Cole sighed and looked away.
“You guys have a lot in common,” she said.
Cole shrugged noncommittally, but Emma persisted.
“You guys dated back then, in high school.”
“We went out a few times and I took her to prom my senior year because Jess and I broke up the week before it, but that’s it.”
It had been more than that, Emma knew, but she dropped the subject.
“Well, you never even knew I was alive,” she said.
“I was three years older than you, and when I did try to talk to you, I think I scared you.”
She laughed and covered her face with her hand as it heated with embarrassment.
“You never scared me, Cole. I just had a hard-core crush on you.”
“On me?” He was taken aback. “I had no idea! Is that really true?”
“Oh, God. It was bad.”
Cole laughed, the blue in his eyes brightening.
“I’m honored, Em. I never would’ve guessed.”
“Yeah,” she said, looking down at the wood table top and running her finger along the line of it. Though everyone who had known her growing up called her ‘Em’, there was something about hearing it from a grown-up, sexy Cole Marlowe that felt intimate.
A reprieve from her embarrassment came in the form of a platter the server whisked onto the table, which was filled with an assortment of foods. While they ate, Cole asked Emma questions about her art, a subject that always made her feel happy and self-assured.
“I juried for a show opening at a new downtown gallery next weekend,” she said, her voice rising with excitement. “I can’t wait to go see it.”
“I’d love to see it, too. Maybe we could go together?”
Emma froze, her heart wanting to ask him to repeat himself.
Close your mouth, idiot.
“Um … sure, it would be nice to have someone to go with.”
She’d been planning to attend with her friends Shawn and Lily, but they would understand. They were married, and always encouraged her to date more. Neither of them knew what a jungle it was out there.
“Great,” he said. “Did you try the calamari?”
“No, is it good?”
“You’ve got to try it. I ate tons of seafood when I went to school in Boston, and it’s hard to find good seafood here.”
“I make the best pan-seared salmon,” Emma said.
“Maybe you’ll make it for me sometime.”
She smiled nervously at the thought of Cole Marlowe in her perennially disorganized apartment.
“Sure. I learned a lot about cooking in Paris.”
“I rarely get a home-cooked meal anymore. It’s always Chinese takeout or sandwiches.”
The conversation continued to flow easily, and Emma found herself wishing this was a date. She knew it was easy with Cole because they already knew each other. Neither of them was trying to figure out if the other was a closet maniac. But still, it didn’t feel like catching up with an old friend. Cole’s eyes never left her, and the charge of electricity between them didn’t fade.
But it’s not a date. We’re just hanging out. It’s probably just enough to make me start dreaming about him at night, like I did back in high school.
Then — 10 years earlier
Emma glanced down the hall nervously before darting into Layla’s bedroom. Her racing pulse was a constant reminder that her sister would kill her if she got caught. She scanned the clothes hanging in the closet, not seeing what she wanted.
Please, Lord, help me find it, she prayed silently. Justin Timberlake grinned at her from a poster on the wall, and she sighed, exasperated. Clothes, shoes, assorted school supplies and hair accessories littered the bed and floor. How did Layla find anything in this mess?
She sorted through the shorts and t-shirts on the floor, grinning as she saw the bright pink item she was searching for. Clutching the treasure, she ran from Layla’s room to her own, slamming the door closed behind her.
Smiling victoriously, she held up the halter top. Layla would never even know. She would wear it while her sister was at cheerleading practice, and then she would return it to its spot on the floor.
After slipping into the shirt, she wrinkled her nose with disappointment as she surveyed her reflection in a mirror. Her hands pressed against the two spots where breasts should have been by now. She was 14, for crying out loud. When Layla wore this shirt, there were two distinct, rounded swells that Emma envied. She also didn’t have the smooth, tanned shoulders that her sister did, or arms toned to perfection from hours of cheerleading.
But still, she thought, squaring her shoulders, this shirt is sexy. Which means if I wear it, I’m sexy. The thought lifted her spirits, and she went into the bathroom to steal some of Layla’s eye shadow, blush and lipstick. Her mother wouldn’t let Emma wear makeup until she started high school, which was only two weeks away.
She studied the frosty pink shade of her lips as she worked on her hair. She liked it so much she added another thick layer, making it look even brighter.
By the time she finished, Emma didn’t recognize herself. Mission accomplished. With her bare shoulders, bright makeup and thick, frizzy side ponytail, she felt like the headline in the fashion magazine that had inspired her look: Flirty fun in the sun!
Emma Carson had never been flirty before. Now that she was, Cole Marlowe was bound to take notice. The hum of the lawn mower’s engine reminded her that he was in her back yard now. She’d wanted to hug her father when he hired Cole to mow again this summer. Now that he was 17, he wasn’t home much, and this guaranteed she’d see him once a week all summer.
She strode confidently out the sliding glass doors that led to the deck, slipping into a white chaise lounge. Geez, it was hot. The makeup on her face broke out in its own layer of sweat.
Be cool, she reminded herself, reclining in the chair. She closed her eyes, buzzing with anticipation as the roar of the lawn mower grew closer. He would probably just stop mowing when he saw her, wondering who she was. When he approached, he’d be shocked that the babe he’d been admiring was actually Emma.
Her glee eroded as the engine’s noise faded when Cole pushed the mower around to the front of the house. He probably just hadn’t seen her. She’d have to be patient, but it would be so worth it. She’d been waiting two years for Cole to look at her the way he looked at Layla.
But when the roaring and fading of the engine had passed half a dozen times, Emma’s heart started to sink. The sun was scorching against her pale shoulders and sweat was pouring down her chest, soaking her unnecessary training bra. Cole wasn’t going to notice her.
She’d take a cool shower and read her new book. An ice cream bar might be in order, too. Just as she rose to go inside, the sputter of the mower’s engine going quiet made her turn. She froze in midair as Cole approached. His bare chest glistened with moisture in the bright sun and the lines of muscles stood out on his arms. Emma didn’t think anything had ever looked so good.
“Hey, Em,” he said, grinning and swiping a hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat off. Emma wished she could touch his long, wet layers of thick, blond hair. Was that gross? She wasn’t sure she’d even tell Dani about that. Wanting to touch anyone’s sweaty hair seemed abnormal.
“Hi, Cole,” she said, leaning casually against the deck rail.
“How’s your summer going?”
“Good. How’s yours?”
“It’s good. Football practice takes up —”
The swoosh of the sliding glass door made them both turn, and Emma’s mouth dropped open when Layla stepped through. Emma glanced at Cole, who smiled appreciatively at Layla’s cheerleading uniform – a short blue skirt and sleeveless top that exposed her flat stomach.
“Hi, Cole,” Layla said sweetly. Just when Emma had decided things couldn’t get worse, Layla’s friend Lane stepped out after her. Lane always had a snide comment about Emma’s glasses and frizzy hair.
Layla was about to breeze over her younger sister when she did a double take.
“Isn’t that my shirt?” she demanded. Emma looked down, as though seeing it for the first time.
“Umm…”
“What the hell did you do to your hair? Wait, is that … what’s all over your mouth, Emma?”
“You look like a prepubescent prostitute,” Lane laughed.
“Geez, Lane, don’t be such a bitch,” Cole said, shaking his head. “She’s just a kid.”
Emma knew the hotness spreading over her was not from the sun. She turned to duck inside the house, hiding her tears.
“Take my shirt off,” Layla said sharply. “And don’t ever —”
The sliding glass door cut her off as Emma closed it behind herself gratefully. When she blinked, the tears escaped, and she grimaced from the eye makeup that burned her eyes. She found her way to the bathroom and ran hot water onto a washcloth, roughly scrubbing the makeup from her skin.
What was I doing? No boy will ever notice me with Layla around. She’s the pretty one, and I’m the smart one. Except, unfortunately, she’s smart, too.
She closed the door to her bedroom and snuggled under the covers of her bed with a thick book. But try as she might, she couldn’t concentrate on it. All she could think of was Cole’s sweaty chest, his blue-gray eyes and the fact that he’d finally noticed her, all right. Too bad it had been one of the most humiliating moments of her life.
Now
As he flipped through the hard copy depositions his assistant had delivered, Cole’s mind wandered. It was Wednesday, and he’d been thinking about Emma constantly since their dinner Friday night. He had called her once just to talk and texted several times, but it wasn’t the same as being near her.
He kept remembering the way her face broke into an ethereal glow when she was about to laugh, and the sweet, longing sensation he felt in his groin every time she said his name. He rubbed a hand down his face, trying to shake the thoughts.
I can’t go there. This is Emma Carson. Mom will kill me – as in, literally maim and then kill me – if I mess with her. She’s always had a dream in the back of her mind of me and Layla ending up together. And work’s way too busy for a relationship, anyway. That’s why I’ve been alone since I started working, and I will be for a few more years until things settle down.
This morning he’d gone back to the coffee shop where they’d run into each other, hoping she’d be there. He couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her again at the gallery opening this weekend. For Emma, he’d pretend to be interested in art.
He started reading a deposition, deciding to become engrossed in it to clear his mind of her. But after several paragraphs, he found himself staring out the large glass window of his office.
What if someone else asks her out?
He grabbed his phone and typed out a message to her.
How about dinner tonight?
He tried to go back to the deposition, but found himself checking his phone every minute or so until it beeped with an incoming message.
Hanging out with Layla…won’t be free til 9…
He smiled as he wrote back.
9’s good. You pick the place. How’s work?
Her return message made him smile.
Just revolutionizing the design world one logo at a time. Dixon’s okay for dinner?
Cole started composing a message.
I love that place. I’ll eat you under the table.
He was about to press ‘send’ when he realized the double meaning. He wondered with a wicked grin what her reaction would be, but decided it was too early. He played it safe instead.
I love that place. See you then.
He turned back to his depositions, finding it was easier to concentrate on work now that he had plans to see her tonight.